…

What title shall you give me?
What echo shall I reply?
“Justice,” you say…
While indifference warms the masses,
And “just ones” shiver in the cold!

Poverty walks and lies
By the side of the world
With eyes that cannot see
The Face reflected
In the stars above.…

A fortress of matter seals unborn destiny
A guard stands blindly watching and waiting…

 Dark light pregnant with time and space
Dreams in death so deep and daring…

 Echoes of a past not yet conceived
Both fallow and fertilized, humming in silence…

 Like a borrowed grave in a nameless new garden
Death tosses and turns in restless slumber…

 What force could awaken such an impersonal landscape
With depth of complexity buried within?…

Death knows no fear;
No haunting to hurt.
It stalks in stealth
And crosses in Life;
Wearing a darkness
That feigns a leaving.
Shadows can see
Only in Bright;
Desire is humbly
Death’s bitter chagrin.
Love finds the Beloved
Rising up in the night!…

Where is the wick of compassion
From Candles snuffed out
Too often with violence?
Lying beneath now solid wax,
Awaiting a Phoenix to burn yet again!

Light the wick and quicken the wax!
Carve it out and trim it down;
For Flames to reach skyward
Need wax and wick,
Both birthed and berthed in generous care!…